Torment: The Followers
by Jack Hargreave
Summary: It's not easy to be a follower of the Dragonborn. But we're sworn to carry this burden, so we'll endure this torment no matter what.
1. Irony

"_**Hell, it's about time."**_

_**It sure is, but life has a nagging way of getting in the way.**_

_**This is the first chapter in a planned series of independent shorts about the torments the followers of the Dragonborn has to endure in his/her service.**_

_**The chapters are considered standalone unless otherwise stated, and the Dragonborn may vary as well. **_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Elder Scrolls in any way.**_

_**Ps: I know this isn't as fun as I intended it to be, but I hope it'll make you chuckle once or maybe twice at least. **_

…

Irony

…

Lydia had heard many bad things about both the Rift and Riften, the city named after the hold… or maybe it was the other way around. _Doesn't matter_, Lydia thought as she followed the Dragonborn through the city gates and entered the city. The first thing to hit her was the stench of rotten fish and things she didn't want to think about. The canals in the city were literally oozing… she suspected that the population simple emptied their waste into the water when they were through with it. That'd also include the waste which came from their bodies as well…

_Urgh, don't think about that!_ Lydia reprimanded herself. But it was hard to not think about it… Whiterun had its own particular smell, but the winds on the tundra ensured that most of it dissipated before it could reach sensitive noses. That was obviously not the case in Riften.

She quickly forgot the smell when her thane, aka the Dragonborn started chanting the chant they first had heard in Windhelm a few days prior.

"Sweet Mother, sweet Mother", the Dragonborn began chanting as he happily strolled down the main road towards the main square in the city. "… send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear."

The Dragonborn, a young Imperial male, didn't care the slightest that the inhabitants of the city did their best to avoid him as he marched along the dirty street. Lydia sighed and sped up to catch up to him. He had chanted that damn chant ever since that kid had mistaken him for an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood and had given him a contract to kill the headmistress of the orphanage in Riften.

That a child would want someone murdered had almost made Lydia's eyes jump out of their sockets… that the Dragonborn had accepted the contract caused her to faint. She had tried her best to talk him out of it, but her word had fallen on deaf ears to say the least. This reinforced her nagging belief that she wasn't much more than a piece of scenery to him when he didn't want something from her. _And now we're here_, she thought in defeat, to kill _an old lady who made a grieving kid cry some more_. She could sympathize with his loss and understood that the kid was angry… but killing someone who wronged you was just too much.

"Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me…", Lydia wondered if it would be for the best if she alerted the city guards and told them what her Thane was up to. That would force her to break her oath to him, but if she didn't… _this isn't right_, Lydia thought.

She spotted a guard leaning against a wall. _Yes_, that was the right thing to do. _Sorry, my Thane, but I have to do this_.

"Excuse me", Lydia said to the guard.

The Guard turned towards her and eyed her… far longer than she liked. _Damn you Dragonborn for making me wear this… thing!_ Lydia thought as she looked down on her apparel… or lack of. Her Thane had told her to put on a Foresworn _armor_ when they had first left Whiterun. She had first believed this was because he wanted to infiltrate the Reach. She had held on to that belief when he steered towards Windhelm instead of the Reach and simply concluded that the young Imperial simply didn't understand basic geography. That belief had been smashed into tiny pieces when she had confronted him about it at an in close to Windhelm. The worst part: her thane had sold her trusty old steel armor and spent the money on wine… _couldn't he have bought mead instead?_

"Imperials", she muttered to none in particular and almost collided with a city guard. She excused herself and moved to follow her Thane on his ill-conceived assassination plot… but she couldn't see him in the crowd of citizens going about their daily lives. And that settled it…

Doing her duty was one thing. Even if it contradicted her personal beliefs and convictions… but killing the headmistress of an orphanage? No, just no, that wasn't a burden she had sworn to carry.

"Excuse me", she said, not completely sure how to explain her situation. "Look, I need help with…"

Her Thane's voice cut her off before she could finish the sentence. "Lydia, there you are!" The Dragonborn emerged from the crowd and stepped up beside her. Her blood froze to ice, and she was at a loss for words. The courage she had managed to muster evaporated just as quickly as it had appeared and left her in silence.

The guard looked at the two of them with a puzzled expression. "What seems to be the problem?"

The Dragonborn looked a bit embarrassed. "Well, the thing is… we're looking for this orphanage…"

"The Honorhall Orphanage?" The guard asked.

"Yes, that's the one!" The Dragonborn exclaimed in excitement. "Can you direct us to it?"

The guard nodded towards the way the two of them had been heading before Lydia made her _detour_. "Sure, just follow the road until you reach the main square. It's on the far right side."

"Thanks, you're a godsend", the Dragonborn said and grabbed Lydia by the arm and dragged her with him towards _their_ goal.

"No lollygagging", Lydia heard the guard say as they disappeared in the crowd. _Damn_, she thought.

…

Honorhall Orphanage could've used some maintenance… just like the rest of Riften. The building was old, lacked any trace of appealing personality and made her start to question how well the children inside fared during winter.

But that still didn't make some assassination justified. Lydia looked at her grinning Thane and cleared her throat. "Are you really sure you want to do this? Don't you think the guards will arrest you if you kill the headmistress? This isn't worth being thrown in jail for."

The Dragonborn lost his grin and gained a thoughtful expression. "You may be right." He turned and scanned the _bustling_ crowd on the square/market place. "Stay here, I got some thinking to do."

Lydia watched in awe as her Thane made his way towards the temple of Mara. She felt a grin spread on her lips. Her words had actually made an impact.

…

Lydia waited for hours in front of the orphanage. She had to dodge countless salesmen who tried to sell her their wares and one or two pickpockets. The latter received a swift kick to the groin and were handed over to the guard. But Lydia didn't let those few incidents sully her good mood. She had managed to save an innocent life and possibly redeemed a lost soul who all of Skyrim counted on. _Today was a good day_, Lydia mused.

Her musing was suddenly interrupted when her Thane emerged from the crowd with a large stack of papers in his hands. "Lydia, there you are!"

She eyed the stack of papers with some suspicion. "What's that?"

He looked down at the stack of papers and grinned. "Oh, this priest-looking fellow asked me to hand these out to the people of Riften. It's supposed to be Mara's teachings or something like that. Could you help me pass these around to the lost people here in Riften?"

_So, he's basically handing out pamphlets… still better than murdering someone I suppose_, Lydia thought. Then again, devoting yourself to the teachings of the goddess of love was hardly a bad thing at all.

She smiled and accepted a rough half of the pamphlets. "Sure, I'd be glad to help."

"Awesome", the Dragonborn said. "But don't give away all of them. You'll need a good bunch later."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'll need them later? For what exactly?"

He looked surprised; almost as if he was surprised she'd missed an obvious part in the task. "For the distraction of course", he smiled.

She took a step back. "What distraction?"

"Hey, keep up with the program!" the Dragonborn exclaimed. "Don't you remember why we're here to begin with?"

Lydia felt foreboding sense of fear and despair crush all hope. "To assassinate the headmistress of this orphanage?"

"Exactly! And what assassin would try to assassinate someone in the middle of the day with lots of witnesses, kids included. That'd mean lots of screaming, and lots of screaming means a migraine for me… trust me, you don't want me to have a migraine."

She could barely move. "And what's with these? Why should we hand these out?" She asked and looked at the papers.

"To keep ourselves occupied until nightfall", the Dragonborn explained. "And for you to distract any potential witness while I do the deed… so to speak." He spun around towards the market with a smile. "Enough lollygagging, I'm getting restless already!"

Lydia stared after him with an open mouth. _We came here to kill someone, and now we're handing out pamphlets about love and understanding… has anyone ever explained what irony means to this guy?_

She watched as the Dragonborn approached a vendor. "Excuse me, sir; do you have a moment to talk about our lady and savior, Mara?" He then approached a drunkard and exclaimed. "The power of lady Mara compels you!"

_Yep, this'll be interesting_, Lydia thought in defeat.

…

_**So, that's it for now. **_

_**This is based on another of my brother's… adventures in Skyrim. He traveled to Riften to kill the old lady in the orphanage but ended up doing these jobs for the Mara priests before doing so. I pointed out the irony and we both had a good laugh about it. **_

_**Ps: The power of Mara compels you to leave a review, she'd appreciate that very much, and so would I. **_


	2. Passing The Time

"**Look what the cat dragged in."**

**Hey, some time no see, huh?**

**Welcome to this new chapter in Torment: The followers.**

**This chapter will once again feature Lydia, but I can assure you that I'll bring in other companions as well in the future.**

**Not much to say about this. None of my brother's antics inspired this piece.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Skyrim in any way.**

**Enjoy! **

…

**Passing the time**

…

The chilly wind sent a shiver throughout Lydia's tired body. She never liked to participate in the Dragonborn's monthly-or-so expedition to the Throat of the world. Her thane would usually be accompanied by someone else of his numerous more or less willing companions, but it seemed to be Lydia's turn this time. She had seen and participated in many exiting adventures… and many weird events she'd rather just forget.

"Do you really think there are 7000 steps?" The Dragonborn asked a bit ahead of her.

_Does it look like I care about that_, Lydia thought bitterly and sent sharp daggers from her eyes at her thane's back. "I don't know", Lydia answered.

Her thane shrugged. "Well, I've reached about 1000 and I know we're getting close to the monastery. 7000 seems a bit unlikely in my eyes."

Whatever you say, Lydia thought. She was in fact furious at the thane. That explained why they had kept such slow pace during their ascent. He was literally counting every step as they went higher and higher.

But that wasn't the only thing on her mind. She knew the Dragonborn would bring supplies to the Greybeards, that wasn't unusual, but that would only include dried fish and the likes.

That wasn't the case this time; the Dragonborn was carrying a large cage full of living chickens on his back. Well, mostly living… some of them looked like they had succumbed to the cold and had returned to their ancestors in the chickens' version of the afterlife.

Lydia gasped in relief when she finally saw the Greybeards monastery. It looked as run down and inhospitable as always, but it could've been a dragon's nest for all Lydia cared; she just wanted to get out of the cold and enjoy a nice and warm fire.

Not that she didn't know how to endure Skyrim's cold climate. She was a true Nord in every sense of the word. But that didn't mean she'd turn down a warm fire if it was available.

She was surprised when the Dragonborn suddenly stopped and placed the cage with chickens on the snowy ground. The surviving chickens were huddled together in the middle in a desperate attempt to share body heat. Lydia sympathized with the poor animals. Why had her thane bothered to bring them here of all places? She had seen the Greybeards and doubted those old geezers knew how to properly treat animals let alone how to prepare them for food.

"What's the point with these chickens anyway?" she asked her Thane as he took one of the dead chickens out of the cage and placed it on top of a small rock next to the cliff edge.

The cold cadaver was already stiff and would soon be deep frozen. The Dragonborn simply smirked at her and placed another three frozen bodies next to their friend. "Just passing the time", he said and backed away from the rock.

"This oughta be good", Lydia murmured and stepped back as well. She knew from experience that it'd be considered suicide to stand near her thane when he was _´passing the time´_.

She watched in equal parts dread and annoyance as the Dragonborn took a heavy breath and unleashed his most famous shout. "FUS-RO-DAH!"

The frozen chickens flew over the cliff and continued some good 30 meters before gravity made its claim and started to pull them downwards towards the hard ground far below.

"Did you see that?" the Dragonborn asked with excitement only a little kid would be able to muster. "I wonder how far they'll fly, wanna bet?"

Lydia glanced at the Greybeard monastery with longing eyes. _There'd surely be fires in there…_ She shook her head. "No, I don't want to bet."

"Come on", the Dragonborn whined. "Don't be such a killjoy. You still mad about the goats, is that it?"

She did not want to talk about that, not even think about it. _Better ignore the question and keep the conversation on the matter at hand…_ she glanced at the cage… _or snow_. "Aren't you worried you'll hit someone with those?" she asked and nodded at the cage. All of the chickens had finally passed away into the afterlife.

"Nah, there's hardly anyone around these parts." He grinned. "Though it would be pretty sad, wouldn't it? ´Killed by chicken falling from the sky,´ that must be the most pathetic cause of death in the history of Nirn."

Yeah, that did sound like a pretty pathetic way to go. But how in the name of the gods could someone even think of something like that? "Tell me", Lydia said "how did you even come up with this?"

The Dragonborn shrugged. "Different reasons I suppose. Got tired of shouting trolls and wolves down the cliffs. And I've always wanted to see if chickens could fly."

Lydia eyed the dead chickens in the cage. "I don't think those will fly anytime soon."

The Dragonborn frowned. "Yeah, I didn't think about that little detail. Better give them some potion against the cold next time."

_Next time_, Lydia shivered at the thought. She watched as the Dragonborn took out the remaining carcasses and placed them on the rock. _Next time_, she hoped she wouldn't be the one to accompany him during that particular journey.

"FUS-RO-DAH!" The chickens went over the edge and disappeared down the mountain. Some went further than others. "How long do you think those flew?" The Dragonborn asked. "I think I managed to shout better this time."

"I don't care", Lydia answered. She had long since thrown away the courtesy expected between a thane and his housecarl. The Dragonborn didn't seem to care either way.

"You really are a killjoy", he said with a big pout.

She was surprised when he drew his new daedra sword and walked towards the very same cliff edge he had sent about a dozen dead chickens down. "What are you doing?" Lydia asked.

He smirked. "I'm going to see how far they flew. Tell the Greybeard that I'll be a bit late. See ya!"

And with that he was gone. Lydia didn't believe for a second that he'd die from cold during the fall or the following impact. Like I'd be that lucky, she thought bitterly. But it'd take him the better part of the day to get back up to her. Longer if his dead chickens got scattered over a large area. One can hope, she thought and turned towards the monastery, where warm fires and food waited for her.

…

Leif the Impractical couldn't believe his bad luck. He and his band of raiders had made camp close to the road connecting Whiterun and Riften. The plan was to attack any travelers who passed through and take their valuables.

The problem? There were hardly anyone passing through, and those who did use the road rarely had anything worthwhile in their possession.

But the weirdest thing to happen during their stay in the western Rift? A frozen chicken had suddenly appeared from the sky and struck down his second in command, Olaf the Unpredictable. Olaf's skull had been caved in completely since he didn't wear a helmet. The rest of the band was now standing around their fallen comrade, gaping in horror at the sight.

But their troubles didn't stop there. Two more of his men fell lifeless to the ground when several more frozen chickens started raining down from the sky.

And with them came the man known as the Dragonborn. "Look, they did hit someone", he shouted as he closed in on the ground.

…

**That's it for now. **

**I'm planning to create a new story; this one will feature a list of rules compiled by the followers of Skyrim. Rules that only applies to the Dragonborn:) **

**Now, feel free to leave a review, even if the gods won't compel you to.**

**Cheers!**


	3. Downtime

"_Why do we fall?"_

_Sorry for the delay, but I've had some things to do for the last month or so. Some of that work may have ended up doing some good though, so I got that for me which is nice._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Skyrim or any commercial product which may or may not be mentioned in this chapter. _

_Ps: Someone please get the reference. _

…

**Downtime**

There were always two sides on the coin. Lydia's companionship with the Dragonborn was no exception to that rule. There were certainly plenty of adventures and riches on the trials they traversed… but they also brought them to some of the worst places in Skyrim and beyond.

That was however not the worst part of it though. Her thane had a tendency to bring out either the best or worst in the people they met with his carefree and obnoxious nature. The former ended up worshiping the Dragonborn like some form of deity. The latter usually ended up in a shallow grave and reunited with their ancestors in the afterlife.

Then there was the time Lydia enjoyed the most: the time between their encounters with either devoted friends or dismembered corpses.

She wasn't sure where she was on that timescale as she lowered the hook and bait into the stream while she kept a watchful eye on her thane.

The imperial stood as still as a statue on the small bridge ten meters downstream from where she was fishing. They had arrived five days prior and made camp at the base of the bridge after they had killed a troll that used the bridge to attack, kill and eat unsuspecting travelers. That had seemed like a good and noble deed, but Lydia had been surprised when she woke up the following morning and found her thane standing on the bridge with a claymore, facing the road they had traveled the previous day.

He had used ashes from their campfire to dye his armor black and had remained… vigil ever since. She had inquired what he was up to, but had only gotten a short answer; "None shall pass."

Lydia had been in the Dragonborn's service for long enough to know to not test her luck and had simply decided to let him get whatever he was dealing with out of his veins. The _goatslaying_ (near extinction of goats) was a prime example of that. She didn't think there'd be much trouble this time after all. They were literally in the middle of nowhere; few to none would risk life and limb to her thane, right…

It wasn't like she was entirely wrong though. A small pack of brigands had attempted to cross the bridge on the first day. They had laughed at the Dragonborn and attempted to attack him. They stopped laughing when their first goon got his head chopped off and sent tumbling down the nearby waterfall. Lydia rolled the rest of their bodies into the river on the third day since the smell of their bodies attracted hungry predators.

Another challenger arrived on the fourth day, claiming the Dragonborn was standing on his bridge. The challenger lasted one full second longer than any other opponent they had encountered during the last month. But the fight reached its eventual ending after he was stabbed through the face. A second duo of challengers arrived mere moments later. These consisted of a man dressed in a hold guard suit with a homemade crown on his head, and a beggar looking fellow who carried a ridiculously large backpack. The _crowned_ man claimed to be a king looking for knights and offered the Dragonborn a place at his table.

"None shall pass", was the only words uttered by the Dragonborn. This agitated the _king_ and ended in a bloody battle which ended with the _king_ being hacked into pieces before dying. The beggar chose to jump down the waterfall rather than suffer the same fate.

The fifth day had so far been uneventful, and Lydia hoped it would remain that way. The deaths of the brigands were justified, and the _king_ and the beggar would most certainly not be missed… but their deaths had been senseless none the less. With power came responsibility, and this was under no circumstances responsible use of time.

"There he is!"

_Guess that means we're back in business_, Lydia thought and placed her fishing rod on the ground and started walking towards the bridge when a trio of figures emerged from the forest. Their leader was a tall elven woman dressed in a black coat. The two elves flanking her wore golden armor, identical to the ones used by the Thalmor dominion. Lydia was neither surprised nor worried for her thane's safety. They were attacked by the Thalmor on a weekly basis at least. That they hadn't attacked earlier was the surprising part. _Perhaps this one got more brains than attitude_, Lydia mused.

The elven woman strode up to the Dragonborn and stared him in the eyes… or visor if you were to be precise. "You, Dragonborn!" Her voice held the same tone and arrogance the previous hundred or so Inquisitors had used when they confronted their prey. That tended to be the last thing they said before they were sent to whatever afterlife awaited arrogant elves.

The Dragonborn remained at his post on the bridge, completely undeterred by the fact that yet another hit squad had found them. Lydia couldn't fault him for that; they tended to be more talk than anything else. "None shall pass", he simply said.

The Inquisitor smirked. "That's a clever disguise, Dragonborn, but even that won't fool the mighty dominion."

He didn't move a muscle.

She looked taken aback by that. _Probaly not used to people not being pushovers_, Lydia thought.

The elf cleared her throat. "I'm Mylare Insormau, High Inquisitor of the Thalmor Dominion. You've been found guilty for committing multiple crimes against the dominion. How do you plead?"

If I had a septim for every time I've heard that, Lydia thought with a broad grin. Seeing those elves be taken down a peg always had that effect on her.

"None shall pass", the Dragonborn said.

That defiantly shocked her. "Submit now or face the consequences for instilling the wrath of the Thalmor Dominion." She stepped onto the bridge.

The Dragonborn immediately brandished the claymore and took a threatening step towards the three elves.

"You dare resist us? Then face the consequences!"

The next few seconds surprised Lydia. The elven woman produced a staff unlike most of her predecessors who usually ended up using a sword or dagger. Those who did use staffs usually had some sort of generic magic, like frost, fire or thunder. Those would barely slow someone like the Dragonborn down. Lydia stared in disbelief when her thane was hit by a bolt of green flames that knocked him over the edge of the bridge and down into the stream below.

He disappeared down the waterfall moments later. Lydia was shocked… then to her surprise… relief. The mental torture she had had to endure for the last few years was finally at an end. No more goatslaying, no more chickens thrown from mountains, and most certainly no more skimpy Forswarn _armor_. That sounded like paradise to her.

The elven inquisitor smirked. "Today justice has prevailed." She turned to her followers and nodded towards the edge. "Find his body and bring me his head."

…

Lydia spent the next few hours contemplating her newfound freedom while the elf gloated about her achievement for herself. _Maybe narcissism is a job requirement_, Lydia thought. The Dragonborn would've made a great Inquisitor if that was indeed the case. Not that it mattered anymore considering he was sleeping with the fishes.

Lydia wasn't sure what she'd do with her life from now on. A long vacation was in order after her long service to her late thane. A nice house wouldn't be bad either, maybe starting a business of her own…

"Guess who's baaaaack!"

That voice was way too familiar. Lydia prayed to all eight… nine gods that it had been her imagination, but those prayers were left unanswered when she saw the Inquisitor react in the same way.

Their eyes turned towards the road just as the Dragonborn emerged from the forest with two elven heads strapped to his belt and a two-handed battle axe in his hands. His armor lacked any trace of the ashes he had covered it in, but he locked no worse for wear otherwise. _Talos, please save me!_

The Dragonborn charged towards the Inquisitor and screamed from the top of his lungs. "None! Shall! Pass!"

…

_That's it for now. _

_Thanks for reading, have a great weekend._

_Remember, don't let the Dominion win, leave a review. _

_Cheers!_


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